


i sing me no sad songs

by pwrfckpwrcm



Category: The 1975 (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bathing/Washing, Cooking, Grooming, High Sex, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, dressing your bf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-07-12 12:57:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7104355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pwrfckpwrcm/pseuds/pwrfckpwrcm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something is eating at George.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. // w a n t //

George woke with a hollow in his stomach, seizing his attention as he looked out his bedroom window onto early morning. An emptiness so palpable, he swept a hand over his stomach to make sure he was still there, satisfied when soft hairs graze his fingertips. He closed his eyes again to let his mind tuck away the last traces of sleep when he felt it. A throbbing just below his belly button that tiptoed up to his neck, over his chin, past his lips and finally ending on his tongue. Maybe a memory. He was clueless as to what and thoroughly confused after a quick breakfast did little to fill him. If anything, the pit grew wider and angrier on the edges.

He piddled around, dressing, tending his plants and tweaking mixes on his laptop. The guys would be over soon for a series of interviews that comprised their only official business of the day. He was trying zero in on that memory when he heard Matty snickering from the drive. George strode to the door and just before his hand touched the knob, it hit him: banana pudding. “Banana fucking pudding?” George asks the empty room. His stomach lurched in anticipation and it hurt this time. He stood there puzzled until Matty tapped on the window, always tapped and never knocked on the door. He let Ross and Matty in, forgetting about Adam entirely but the slender man squeezed past. The guys settle in, Ross making drinks and Adam playing with the TV, probably changing the language to Simlish.

George is still stood by the door with a question on his face until Matty grabs his hand. “...in here,” Matty asks, “for the calls?” His brow softens as Matty grumps and leads him to his office where George slouches by the window. Matty’s voice is even, asking him how he’s been feeling and what he’s working on. Something mean and red curls in his chest as George vividly remembers telling Matty exactly how he felt when they’d last spoke. He fixates on Matty’s middle finger hovering over and swiping the trackpad, how his entire hand flexes and undulates to induce this singular movement. George has had a lot of ideas and would love to bound up to Matty all excited and nervous for his friend to assess them but he’s stuck right now.

He nibbles on the thumb of his right hand, the one Matty grabbed, and grunts a noncommittal “Been ok. Stuff and things.” Matty gives him a side look then turns back to the screen, recounting his down time of writing, girls, new clothes and merch ideas. Ignoring the knot in his sternum, George straightens his spine and engages a little more. Seeing him for the first time in over a month, parts of George are happy to have him here. The back of his neck the most, where hair’s standing up, followed by his tongue, where that morning memory danced. The chasm under his shirt roils, he places a hand on it then calls out to Ross and Adam that they’re starting now.

* * *

   
George is far away in the round of calls, spending most of them surreptitiously combing for recipes on his mobile. George felt competent in the kitchen but some of them were too fussy or beyond his patience for such a simple treat. Why the fuck would anyone put meringue on banana pudding? That girl hadn’t put any on it the first time he had it. He flinches when Matty waves a hand in his peripheral then jerks his head towards the phone. He barely lets the interviewer finish repeating the question before mumbling something he’s said seventy times before then turned back to his phone. He was deceived by some artfully arranged photographs over text that allegedly contained a recipe but was more about the blogger’s kids and “inspo.” He rolls his eyes and resumes searching after seeing edible glitter in the ingredients. He hears his name coming out from Ross’s strained jaw. “George”, he grits, “fucking pay attention!” snapping his finger off the mute button. George turns his phone screen down, flashes his eyes to Matty’s, narrowed and unblinking, and makes it through the last two calls without distraction.

 

* * *

Back in the living room, Ross is just about frothing because he can’t understand the telly. George finally found a simple recipe that got to the fucking point and was absently scrolling through his phone and watching his friends. Adam has Matty’s head in his lap wheezing while Ross boils over. Matty nudges Adam’s ribs, prodding him to change it back or at least to German, for his sake, not Ross’. Matty shuffles his feet in George’s lap and stretches forward to pass the joint; fingertips sharing a current that fizzles when Ross drops the remote and heads out the back. Adam wisps up to run after him and Matty settles back into the groove Adam’s slight body left. 

“What’s with you?” Matty hums. “Hmm? Oh, I just had a craving today, couldn’t shake it. Can’t shake,” George replied. “For?” Matty trills. George isn’t looking but knew Matty’s eyes were sparkling at the prospect of salaciousness. Knowing none would come, he suppressed a smile. “You’ll laugh, but I want...” George feels his face flash hot, “it’s silly.” “Please, you can tell me”, Matty sighs softly as he rearranges himself to be closer. George takes a deep drag, stares off then exhales, “banana pudding,” and giggles at the last word from the smoke working through him. Matty jolts his neck at an unnatural angle and lifts his eyes to the ceiling. “That jiggly cookie stuff we had in…North Carolina that girl made? It wasn’t bad”, he recalled. George nods and passes the joint back to Matty who grabs it without looking. “Yes. I was looking it up during our calls earlier.” 

It’s this revelation that breaks Matty’s face out in laughter. “That’s what you were looking at?! My god, I was worried. We thought you were going cross-eyed over a stunning pair of tits. But desserts?!” Matty’s convulsing as he grasps to catch himself on the coffee table but misses and collapses in a pile of giggles. George knows his friend’s laughter is genuine but senses a ripple below its surface. He wishes he had more silly things to share that would elicit further joy from Matty. George is soon infected by it, gushing laughter, leaning to his side and glancing at Matty’s mouth. He felt flutters in his chest; he wanted his friend’s lips on his, pouring the laughter into him. 

Picking the worst possible time, Ross walks back in and stops when he sees Matty at George’s feet, red-faced and dewy. “We didn’t smoke that much. What’s wrong with him?” Ross asks. George manages a “nothing” through a wide grin. Matty pipes up, “Me?! There’s nothing wrong with me, mate. My boy here is in love!” Adam and Ross smile suspiciously at George. “Who is--?” Ross starts but is cut off when Matty blurts, “Pudding!” which sends him into another fit. “Thought he was going crazy over a girl earlier but he wants banana pudding!” Matty breathlessly exclaims. “Do you want to have sex with it or…” Adam inquires mechanically. George and Matty are choking now, amused by the question and its asker’s sincerity. Ross rolls his eyes “fucking banana pudding…” takes the joint out of Matty’s hands, inhaling the last bit and snuffs it, “We’re heading to that party, are you coming or staying, Matty?” Bracing himself on the couch to get on his feet, he chuckles lightly, “Yeah, I’m going, let me grab my shoes."

George’s body felt compressed but numerous muscles twitched erratically, processing something Matty said earlier and he panicked slightly. He didn’t want Matty to leave and knew if he went to the party, they wouldn’t be alone again. Fighting through the weed coursing through him, he reached for Matty’s shirt, clumsily catching the hem between two fingers. Matty turns and George can only blink slowly up at him and say “’worried’?” It’s the only word that exists in his mind and mouth as he gazes into the shadow on Matty’s face. He must have conveyed something with his heavy lids because Matty says, “you go on without me.” George leans back into couch, neither he nor Matty break eye contact as Ross and Adam leave.

Matty sits with their legs touching, “Is there something more you want?” George’s head is swimming; he must be smart with this opportunity. “Know I do. I left it on the table, to wait, but with time, I concede that my eventually is your never. I’m going to respect that but I will always want more. Of you.” Matty lowers his head and blinks, “I didn’t mean for-” but stops when George rakes through his hair. The strong hand makes small circles on his scalp, drags down to his neck and lower back then withdraws it. “But what I want right now, inexplicably more than anything, is pudding so I can fill this ache in me. I’m going to get the stuff for the fucking pudding.” George fidgets with his finger then adds “And I want you to be here when I come back.” Matty turns back to him, knitting his brow, “You’re not leaving me,” getting a little touchy, “and besides you always buy the wrong cigarettes, getting me green you know it’s red. I’ll go.” George sighs and leans forward, Matty’s voice softening as he says “and I will come back here with you.” George nods his head as he gets up and grabs their shoes. Tying his first, he kneels and slips Matty’s on and gives the hand on his cheek a light kiss as they head into the night. 


	2. // r e v e a l //

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matty apologizes.

They walked in silence with Matty occasionally breaking it by clearing his throat. He was trying to ready himself to say something to George but whenever George glanced sideways at his light coughs, he’d give a soft smile and delay once again. Between George’s looks and the sharp wind shaking his bones, it was probably for the best that he couldn’t make himself talk just yet. he didn’t know what to say, and George’s admission rocked him slightly. He knew after their last talk that it was settled, they would still be close but not together. Beyond that, he was certain George had started dating again, no evidence on hand but just knowing George, he wouldn’t be single for long. The one-two combo of feeling jealous over this invisible person and hearing George still lingered for him knocked him over. 

And he had tried so hard to prepare himself that morning, as he was getting dressed (subconsciously picking items George liked on him) and had a little pep talk in the mirror before Ross and Adam picked him up. “George is fine, we can be cordial there’s nothing else to discuss, you can get through this day. It won’t be bad.” Foolish lies. His resolve cracked the second he grabbed George’s hand by the front door and fault lines spread throughout the day. He tried to be cool, make conversation and hated the thick silence George served back. 

Hated but accepted it, however, his stomach began to turn when he saw how distracted George was. Only a new flame could get George like that, he reasoned. He had not prepared himself to have a front row seat to George pining. He wasn't sure why he thought it was a girl, George dating a new guy would have hurt the same. Regardless, it was George looking blissful and enamored with something he didn’t need from Matty that twisted the knife.  

That the look in question revealed itself to be about dessert was irrelevant to Matty. Hilarious but a non-factor, it stirred something real and deep in him. He likely only laughed as hard as he did because of the weed, which he needed to relax, but it didn’t conceal his relief, which George picked up on, of course. It was “worry” buried among his giggles that altered his course.  

And he was worried, for himself, how he would receive this (imaginary) new person in George’s life, worried if he would behave, or make a scene or say something secret and hurtful and worried his reaction would turn George away completely, worried it was final. George had other partners before and during, it was the after now that Matty never considered and it frightened him. Thinking now on earlier in the evening, lying on George and laughing with him, he realized just how right it felt, where he should have been this whole time.

Instead of thinking of a reply to George, he ruminated over their last talk, how thin his argument of “running on fumes” was. George wanted to carry him, let him recharge but not sever their connection. Matty didn’t even want anyone else at the time, he wasn’t ending it to protect George and George wasn’t asking for more. He loved George, told him as much many times, but he was weak and couldn’t let George to shrink himself to wait on him. Looking back, it all added up to some peculiar math and he felt worse now remembering it than he had saying it back then. 

He shook himself out of his trance and looked over at George, the moon big and bright beyond his head, and felt himself drawn in by how George seemed to absorb then radiate the moonlight. He wanted to hurry back to the house and bask in this glow in a dark room, take it in his hands and let it revive him. He had to talk to George first, truth the only option, no deflecting, no delay, and with an apology. It wouldn’t be easy but this was his shot and he had to accept whatever George offered.

* * *

The brilliant fluorescents steal the last of George’s buzz and he loses Matty as soon as they enter. He mostly needed the fruit and to replace staples that had rotted after his months on the road. He grabbed those, some beer and a few snacks for Matty in case he stays over. Matty promised to come back, and he would, but if he stayed was another matter. George meant everything he said but couldn’t tell how or even if it affected Matty. Whether they would talk or just be near each other or more, he would leave up to Matty.

He’s almost at the register when he sees Matty waiting with a bag too big for just the green cigarettes he was already unwrapping. Matty quickly grabs George’s free hand after he finishes paying and does not let go for the walk back to the house. He could feel Matty glancing…closer to staring at him, not shivering from the wind like had on the walk here, only turning away to exhale smoke. Matty put the remaining half of the cigarette in George’s mouth and rested on George's shoulder the rest of the walk. He was surprised by Matty’s physical attention but wouldn’t stop him if that’s what he wanted in this moment.

* * *

George and Matty maneuvered awkwardly around the kitchen. George trying to put everything away with Matty determined to be under his heels. Hands on shoulders and small of backs, hair brushing against him, squeezing past. George wasn’t sure what came over Matty during their walk, he liked it but didn’t want to cross a line and fall into an old pattern; he remained cautious knowing this could be snatched away in an instant. He finished, tossing the bags into recycling, grabbed two beers and headed for the couch when “worried” spins him back around.

Matty is by the sink, head down and his chest rising and falling as the word stands between them. “I was worried. Am. Worried is my present state”, Matty giggled with nerves at this last bit. “I didn't think I was but worry is suffocating me.” Matty raised his head and looked right into George's eyes continuing, “I knew I slipped when I said that. A kernel of truth in... well not a lie but a secret, one I didn’t know I had. I hoped you didn’t catch it but you did.” George shuffled his feet and started to speak then stopped and shook his head. Matty began to close the gap between them, “I’m a coward and I should not have punished you for that.”

George inhales deeply at these words now as real as the beers in his hands. He sets them down on the table and moves slightly towards Matty, his instinct to wrap Matty up in his arms, but he stands by, tentative. “When I saw you on the phone earlier, a terrible series of thoughts ran through my mind. _‘He’s moved on. He can do that.’_ And, why wouldn't you? After dealing with my shit, after I discarded you for what I see is such a feeble excuse.” He crosses his thin arms over himself, continuing, ‘They must be special; George must have found someone so perfect for him to look like that. I should be glad.’ But I couldn’t, my mind was twisted up. I don't remember anything I said in the interviews, I was trying to picture that person, and you with them, your face lit up while looking at them.”  

George hadn’t thought about another person, not significantly nor recently. He got around occasionally but it was rote, something to fill an evening. He wasn’t resigned to be forever alone though, he knew that distance in himself wouldn’t last and with time would put himself wholly back into someone, he couldn’t help it. George shifts his weight to ease his tense body and still says nothing. He wasn’t trying to torture Matty with his silence but he needed this. Every syllable. 

“I want to say if I met “them” one day, I would be sincerely happy for you. But not today, because I am worried that I feel like this without proof. Going only by joy and longing on your face, I spun all that up. For banana pudding.” George could tell Matty wanted to affect a laugh, because it is still silly, but the weight of his confession made his voice catch in his throat, wet and thick. “I wouldn’t be this way if I were finished, right? This can’t be where we end. How can it be when we...I didn’t try?”

A hand flies to his mouth to cover a sob and George can no longer hold back. He takes Matty’s hand away and holds him to his chest and puts his nose in Matty’s hair, feeling hot tears land on his bare feet. He always thought if Matty laid it out bare for him he would barely let Matty even start before he'd cut him off with a kiss the moment he expressed the slightest chance of reuniting. Thinking his body would shake in its urgency to get through the opening Matty created before it closed again. But he surprised himself with his restraint and was richly rewarded. He felt Matty lips forming “I’m sorry,” against his collar and pulled away. 

George is collapsing inside seeing Matty raw like this but he must postpone falling apart. He makes Matty look up at him and says “I’m here,” and kisses him on the mouth. He repeats it as he kisses all over Matty’s face, each one planting a seed and tying them to each other again. He would say his piece later, if he remembered, but at this moment he was making a promise.  Matty catches his mouth and drapes his arms over his shoulders, George buried his face in Matty’s neck and they stood there for several moments, George rubbing Matty’s back to soothe him. He breaks away, “Do you want to stay?” Matty swallows and nods, not trusting himself to speak just yet, he suddenly felt worn out. George grabs Matty’s hand and leads him to the couch, laying him down then sits on the floor in front of him.

Matty’s wiped his face and said “I got you something, a plant from the store. I left it in the kitchen.” “For me? Really?” “Yes, a little cactus with tiny flower buds among its spines, I thought it was cute.” Matty paused then chuckled sleepily, “oh god, I call it a “gift” but it’s about me. A tiny me for you to keep here and take care of, how egotistical.” George barked out a laugh, admiring just how “Matty” Matty is about everything. They’d kiss and hum and whisper to each other until Matty fell asleep. George got up to get a blanket for him and saw the bag on the counter, kind of hidden behind some containers, maybe Matty wasn’t sure if he should give it to George. He tucked it back into its spot so Matty could show him in the morning. George laid the blanket on Matty and stretched out below him, playing with Matty’s draped fingertips, noticing that he hadn’t felt that pit in his stomach in several hours. He thought about that night until sleep took him too.


	3. / / c r e a t e / /

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George finally makes the goddamned pudding.

George rubbed sleep from his eyes, momentarily confused at his location before remembering last night. When he sat up straight, a dull ache rang in his shoulder, the price for sleeping on the floor but worth it for this view of Matty who had his head nestled in the nook of his elbow, mouth moving slightly. George played with a strand hanging in his face before kissing him softly. “What do we do now,” George asked under his breath while staring few more moments before getting up. George’s stomach made a slight grumble though not nearly as drastic as before. As critical as having that damn dessert seemed yesterday, it was much less agitated today. Still, he would have to make it soon to quiet it completely. He took a shower, changed into shorts and a tank top and laid out sweats and an A-shirt for Matty. They’d be too big on his slender frame but Matty would love it, considering his body being swallowed up in the too big fabric a feature, not a bug.

When he came back up front he saw Matty was gone from the couch, smoke billowing past the open door. He stuck his head out to say, “Morning,” and Matty waved back with the hand holding the cigarette, “I can make us something to eat if you want.” Matty nodded, tossing the cherry as he comes back inside. “Can I wash up?” “Yeah, of course, there’s some clothes and a toothbrush on the bed for you. You know where the towels are.” George rummaged around the kitchen making coffee and eggs, checking the recipe on his phone again and saw Ross texted asking if they were all right. He replied while setting mise en place on the counter. He had to start now so it would be ready in a few hours. He almost dropped a sauce pot when Matty startled him by asking “Why banana pudding? Of all things?” Matty crossed the kitchen to stand right in front of where he had hidden the plant and finished drying his hair. George mulled it over while chopping the bananas in even slices, “At first, I wasn’t sure. Seemed an absurd thing to be tortured by out of nowhere. But last night as I was drifting off, it came into focus.”

George opened the cookies and continued, “It was our last night in the states, the last show for a while and it was more energetic both on the stage and off. Everyone was loose, happy, looking forward to the break. You were so...” George shakes his head, layering the cookies and fruit in a pattern in the glass pan, setting it in the fridge. “You were glowing, curled up under me, wrapped around me, splitting your face open with laughter, feeding me your dessert. Never mind that I had my own bowl, you wanted me to have yours. Taking little spoonfuls, “one for you, one for me” and kissing me in between.” George paused to turn on the eye, measured and poured two cups of milk, a teaspoon of vanilla extract and a dash of cardamom and nutmeg into the saucepan on medium heat. He whisked absently as he continued, “That was the first time we really put it out there and the last time we were good. By morning, you’d turned, I honestly thought I’d dreamt the previous twelve hours. Quiet on the ride to the airport and then the whole flight. I know I asked if I did anything to cause that or try to fix it and nothing. I couldn’t get through to you. Then with everything after...as much as that night meant to me, I had to bury it. But knowing I would see you yesterday for the first since all of that, I guess some part of me wanted a piece of that. And I don’t know maybe I could have it with this,” he gestured to the array of his project.

George suddenly felt on the spot and turned away from Matty, feigning needing to concentrate more on the liquid. “I remember. They had a fire going, which was mad having been August but I didn’t feel it,” Matty trailed off, “Just you and I. Singular.” George heard the bag rustling then Matty appeared in the corner of his eye, showing George his plant then setting it down on the counter and tossing the bag. “It was probably a bit over the top? Like sickly sweet. I think it scared me, to be so...fuck, it’s embarrassing.” Matty rubbed his cheeks to dissipate the flush, poured a cup and moved to his left to watch him work. George relaxed slightly despite Matty still appraising him. He’d never been this nervous when showing his music, cooking shouldn’t wind him so but it wasn’t about cooking. Not even in the deepest part of their affair had George expressed himself so openly. Always receptive to and affectionate with Matty but not exceptionally verbose; that was not his way.

When the milk was roiling, he poured in the powder and whisked until the concoction thickened after several turns. He turned off the eye, retrieved the glass pan from the fridge and set it on the counter. “Ooh, is it done already,” Matty asked, “can we eat?” George giggled, “No, you have to let it cool down.” “Oh,” Matty pouted. George reached past Matty to grab the pot gingerly and poured the pudding into the pan, guiding it with a spatula to get in between the fruit and cookies. After spreading the last bit evenly across the top, he held the spatula to Matty’s mouth, who closed his eyes and ran his tongue along to taste and hummed approvingly at its sweetness, asking “How long must we wait, George?”

George was staring at Matty’s mouth, the quick glimpse of his tongue holding his attention, Matty bit his lip and repeated “How long?” George shook his head back to clarity, “What? Oh, the box said five minutes which is ridiculous. I want it cold, so a few hours, the longer the better.” He crushed the last bit of cookies in the bottom of the bag, sprinkling the crumbs on the top of the dessert, and returned the pan to the fridge. He gave the spatula a final lick then put the utensils and pot in the sink filling with soapy water. “Can you watch that? I’m going to check the post, back in a minute.”

Matty went ahead with the dishes, putting them on the rack to dry and picked up around the kitchen. He’s staring at the tiny cactus in thought when George walks back in with the mail. He turns around, “Can you take me home?” “What,” George faces loses its color, “Why, what happened?” Matty raises his hands in a calming gesture. “Shit, I meant can you give me a ride over there so I can let Allen out, pack a bag, then come back here?” George sighs, “You scared me.” Matty takes George’s hand into his, “I’m sorry, I just thought, we have some time before it’s ready and I want to stay over again...properly. If that’s ok?” George swallowed hard at the prospect of properly, replying “y-yes. Are you ready now?” “I’ll put on my shoes then we’ll go.” George took his keys off the hook and waited by the sink. He lifted the plant off the counter to get a good look, smiling at the thought behind it. He took it out of the plastic container, placed it in the mug Matty drank from earlier and set it on the kitchen table. “Ready,” Matty exclaimed and they were on their way.

* * *

Matty swore he wouldn’t be long and made George wait in the car. He ran inside making a mental list of what to bring with as he played with Allen on the floor of his living room. His roommate would be home in a few hours, so his baby wouldn’t be alone for long. He thought of bringing him but he’d just be cooped up with him and George and that was no good. He let Allen out into the yard, filled the food and water bowls and set to packing. Charger, laptop, briefs, boots, a beanie, jacket, jeans, sweats, tees, socks, and lip balm should do it.

He sat on the bed and surveyed his room. Already a disaster from trying to pick something to wear to George’s, it was now a verified warzone. His backpack was bursting and he had to laugh at himself. How long am I planning on staying, he thought? He could barely fill a full-sized suitcase before a tour sometimes but was apparently trying to move in on George with only this bag. Just the weekend, he decided, let George choose if longer. He looked around the room and bath one last time, zipped his bag and called Allen inside, giving him a goodbye kiss and scruff then locked the door behind him.

George laughed at the straining zipper on his bag, “Is Allen in there too?” Matty gave him a put-upon look and said, “Funny. No, just couldn’t make up my mind.” “You could bring him if you want,” George said as he reached around the back of Matty’s seat to reverse out. “No, it’s fine, Sam should be back soon he won’t be alone. Besides, not sure how long I’ll stay over.” Matty replied while fixing his seatbelt and almost bumped his head against George’s arm when he raised it. He had to fight to not laugh at George and the show he was putting on.

George had backed out of the drive without so much as a look in the rearview countless times. Yet now, he had to turn most of his broad body towards Matty to get out. Despite George kissing him in the kitchen then again to sleep, Matty felt George had been holding back physically. Matty couldn’t fault his tentative behavior around him as he himself was unsure of how or if to fall back into step, but this? Matty saw old George and his way of flirting by putting himself in Matty’s space under some pretense and thought he could stretch his visit out to a week.

* * *

Matty set up camp in the living room upon their return, asking “Can you check on the pudding,” as he took out his laptop and phone. George called out from the kitchen, “Not quite yet, pick something to watch, I have to make some calls and I’ll be back.” and disappeared into the rear of the house. Matty synced his phone to his laptop, looking for the melodies he recorded himself singing and needed George to work on when he saw a folder named “6-7” pop up on the desktop. Matty couldn’t recall making it and opened to find it contained a list of photo files named by date stamp. When he changed the display from list to thumbnail, he understood.

It was an album made of small slices of his days spanning the past few months, everything from his hair and excursions and meals to Allen and things that were for George. Images he had not and would not post online for all to see and had saved until their intended audience saw them. The images seemed fuzzy to Matty, as though after he put one of Insta’s filters on, the pictures warped from absorbing his forlorn mood. “I should have…” Matty uttered to the empty room. He was aware of his mistake with George but always stopped short at acknowledging George’s absence. It felt wrong, probably closer to hypocritical, to confess to missing the person he had hurt. Not saying it was not the same as not feeling it though and Matty saw he wore missing George like a second skin in these pictures.

Matty was analyzing the album, enlarging and zooming in, laughing at the ones he couldn’t remember the exact “why” for, not needing at all to question others, and guessing which George would like the most. The last three pictures in the album stood out, both for their content and composition as they were the only ones in black and white. The first was a close-up of his hand with the thumb resting in the bottom center of his throat and fingers lightly draped on his clavicle. The second was his fingers on his lips, pulling the bottom one slightly to show his teeth. The last, and most damning to him, showed half his face buried in the pillow, eyes shut tight and neck craned and anticipating…

The rest he’d have no issue with sharing with George but these...He looked at the file name and timed that he took them about two weeks after breaking up. That must have been when it first hit him, how wrong he was and how lonely had become. Every muscle in his body must have ached waiting for George’s touch that would not be coming. He mimed the placement of his hands in the photos then minimized them to the taskbar and settled in on his music and transcribing notes from his phone. His mind wandered sporadically from the document editor to the proof sitting just off screen, fighting himself not to look at them again but he had to. Maybe if he looked that them enough, eventually, he could decide how or when or if to show those to George. He had the last one of his face on the pillow open and moved the cursor to minimize it again when George asked, “What’s that,” causing him to jump up.

George was stood at the end of the hallway and must have been watching him for a while. He knew had to watch from afar because Matty would have stopped working had he sat down next to him. “Is that us,” George asked, pointing at photo on the screen, “from a photoshoot or something?” Matty put his head down, his eyes wildly searching the room for an explanation. George moved closer and saw better that it was just Matty alone. Matty’s stubble-ridden neck and his hair raven against the white of the background, maybe a pillow, shook him. Who took that photo and what made Matty pose himself? George want to know, not out of jealousy, it had just been so long since he saw Matty that way. They never took pictures together when they were alone really so it couldn’t be by him.

Matty turned around rapidly, holding onto his laptop so he didn’t drop it but missed his phone. “It’s some pictures I took of myself a while ago. I have others for you, good ones, funny ones, from the last little while” he paused to retrieve his phone from the floor, “but those, I don’t know. I don’t think I was going to show you,” Matty explained while rearranging himself on the couch. “Why?” “I had forgotten about them...they’re too--something is off to me when I look at them.” “Do you not like how you look?” “No. Well I mean not  _no_ ; I don’t think I looked like this when you do, did that to me. Desperate, maybe miserable, it’s not real, just forced and unnatural, if I closed my eyes tight enough, you would appear.”

“If you really felt that, wished for me, that’s genuine” George rebutted, “please show me.” Matty scooted over to let George sit then moved the mouse to open the one with his hands on his chest and neck, turning the laptop towards George. George put his fingertips over Matty’s hands in the photo, “the next one, please.” Matty opened the one of his fingers on his lips and watched George bite his own, clearing his throat before he asked “and the last?” Matty hesitated, this was the worst one to him, the most undeniable. He looked at George then opened it fully showing its large resolution. George leaned over and put his finger on the trackpad pausing on the eyes before going to the bottom of the picture then scrolling up and stopping at so Matty’s neck was the only thing on the screen.

George looked at Matty who inhaled for the first time in minutes and took the laptop from him, placing it on the table. “What about that is unnatural,” not giving Matty a chance to answer before tracing his collarbone as he did to the picture, “wanting your hand to be mine?” George fit his thumb in the divot below Matty’s Adam’s apple, and felt his pulse change time. Matty leaned into the hand just as it pulled away from him. Was it ever there, Matty thought as George lifted him from the couch. They walked down the hall George guiding him by the lower back, heat on his ear until he was blinded by the brightness of the bedroom.

* * *

 

George stopped him at the end of the bed and laid him down, cradling his neck in his arm then sat next to him. George looked at him for a moment, “Do you want to know how you look when it’s real...when it’s me? How beautiful you are for me?” Matty nodded and George retrieved his phone from the nightstand and aimed the phone at Matty. He placed his hand under Matty’s shirt, feeling Matty’s torso constrict from the gentle touch and put it on his throat like Matty had done in his photo then snapped, taking another when Matty put his hand on top of his and dug into his skin. Matty brought George’s hand to his lips and kissed in time with the camera’s flashes. George withdrew his hand swept it up from Matty’s neck to his temple, spilling curls against the pillow, turning his head into it and flashed several pictures in a row.

Matty half-heartedly reached for the phone, “I want to see,” but George pulled it far out of his grasp and put back on the stand, saying “Later,” as he laid down facing him. Matty considered his eyes and felt foolish for wanting to keep those photos hidden, for wanting to conceal himself from George. He felt warmed inside and out and knew he would be fever hot in George’s hands. Closing his eyes, he hoped they would stay suspended in this moment, before they fell back into each other, before he would drown in George, letting George fill his lungs and veins and mouth.

If George hadn’t seen those photos, they likely still would have ended up here, barely touching and breathing in each other, and could very well have stayed that way all night. But seeing where he was wanted by a vulnerable Matty now in his bed with his eyes blinking slowly and his blood pooling in his cheeks for George, it drugged him. George licked his lips and caressed Matty’s cheek, running a thumb over his lashes, “Is this ok, us here right now?” Matty didn’t open his eyes, “Yes,” he replied then inched closer towards him, “can we...will you kiss me?” George lifted himself onto one elbow, hovering with his lips almost on Matty’s then moved over to kiss behind his ear and following down to his neck. Matty’s let out a barely perceptible sigh and his body relaxed under George, who kissed and bit down to his collar, becoming newly obsessed with this part of Matty’s body.

George shifted his weight and his hands found their familiar place on Matty’s hips, holding him as Matty widened his thin legs to accommodate one of George’s thick ones. When their lips found each other, they sighed deeply into the other’s mouth and twisted themselves together. Matty hands were on the back of George’s neck, tugging the shorter hairs at the nape between his rough fingertips. He leaned his head away breaking them apart, breathlessly begging “here, please here, always here” as George kissed his neck, biting and sucking at the salty flesh that ached for him.

Matty’s hands traveled down his back and slipped below George’s shorts, grabbing onto him then jutted his hips up, moaning softly when he felt George’s erection against his. Matty moved his hips in George’s hands to stroke his cock against him, timidly at first but grew braver when he felt George slow almost to a still and hum deeply in his chest. George had his face buried in the pillow focusing his attention on the growing pressure in his lower abdomen. Matty paused long enough to snake a leg around the one George had between his knees to bring them closer and traced a hand under George’s shirt, now dewy from sweat, and pinched a nipple. “Matty, you know I…,” George started but was cut off by an unexpected moan when Matty adjusted his position under George for better friction on their cocks and fell into Matty thrusting back at him.

Matty had angled his head down to watch their hips grinding against each other, getting peeks at the muscles in George’s torso from his tank shirt riding up. Soon enough, his eyes rolled back into head feeling overwhelmed by the sight and George’s weight on him. Matty’s mouth was open and George found it in himself to raise up, using his stretched arms as support and angled deeper down into Matty, making Matty moan in his throat and caught his mouth with a sloppy kiss. He stuck his hand down George’s front and bit down on George’s lip when he felt warm precum on the tip. Knowing that George was just as aroused as he was made his balls constrict under his throbbing cock. They both were still dressed in their clothes, on each other with little foreplay yet they were both sweating, driving harder towards each other, uninhibitedly telling the other how good they felt. Both saying their name and clutching hard enough to leave white spots for their hot blood to flood back into when their hands inevitably moved to another part of their bodies they needed.

And he was certain neither wanted more than this right now; they hadn’t gotten up disrobe or find the lube or play with the other’s ass to get them open and ready. There was something illicit and secret about wanting to get off this way but not in the ways they had grown to know and prefer in their relationship and experimenting. He hadn’t felt this intoxicated or potent with anyone else. “George,” the name skidded on his dry tongue and came out closer to “guhj” so he whispered “guhj” in between increasingly louder moans and gasps and sighs. He aimed every muscle in his body towards the pressure that built up in his cock, swirling his hips down then to the and up again until he arced, cumming wild and desperately into George’s sweats, making them his now.

“Matty, I,” George’s voice sounded higher than usual and his body jerked, hungrier and off rhythm. Matty relaxed his back down on the bed underneath him, wiping his hand across the sweat on George’s brow and put it to his lips. George’s spine curved and his eyes strained with concentration, “you are so fucking real,” he stiffened on Matty for a moment, his mouth in a perfect “O” then collapsed his entire weight onto him, thrusting a few short times as he spilled his cum into his shorts grunting into Matty’s neck.

Matty stroked his back until his breathing calmed. “Have we done that before?” George asked blinking his eyes back to focus turning to lie on his back. “Not in ages, maybe not since we were younger, fooling around and all that,” Matty said while turning to his side and looping a leg over George’s lower torso, “but that could just as well be me misremembering several people from school.” George hummed with a hand in Matty’s hair, “I doubt you could confuse me, even 17-year-old me, with somebody else.” Matty clucked his tongue, “I don't know, I was just horny all the fucking time back then, felt like my eyes were swimming in it if I didn’t get off. That’s how I felt just now.” George pulled him in closer “I, I did too. I can’t explain it, we’ve done so much together. How was humping like drunk teenagers at, what, 1 in the afternoon, the hardest I’ve been and came in a while?”

“That’s probably part of it, just heady and wanting someone to touch you but…” Matty’s voice got lower, “having been apart for a while probably factored in too.” Matty's raised his head to face George, "it felt familiar and new, different yet exciting, rediscovering...I loved it.” George kissed Matty’s forehead who replied “me too.” “Maybe if you stuck around, we could do that again or something else...” Matty nuzzled up closer to George, “I packed enough to stay a few days, we’ll think of something to do with ourselves.” 


	4. / / c o n s u m e / /

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally eat the fucking pudding.

George smiled at the bright glint in Matty’s eyes and weighed the promise in his words. Matty opened his mouth to speak again but closed it to paint tender pecks on George’s chest, ending on a deep kiss where he languished in the fullness of George’s lips. Matty looked down the length of George’s body, muttering “God, we are a right mess,” when he saw the darkened spot on George’s shorts and scrunching his nose at the similar one on his sweats. Matty stood to disrobe then rested a hand on his jutted hip looking expectantly at George who mouthed  _what_. Matty gestured at the stain, “we can’t sit about in these sticky things,” rolling his eyes before pulling the shorts off George’s long legs. “But it’s ours…,” George began objecting but was muffled by Matty lifting the sweat-dampened shirt over his head. Matty tossed the discarded clothes into the laundry basket and closed the bathroom door behind him. 

George stretched himself out in bed and let the sound of running water sooth him, he swept over his abdomen in the same manner he had the day before. He felt full, that aching hollow now satiated by new memories of Matty the lingered on his tongue and skin and on his sensitive cock. Feeling the slick remains on his tip, he thought he would gladly lay in their mess, as Matty christened it, for a lot longer. He turned his head to the pillow where Matty had lain, inhaling the faint but sparkling familiar scent which had a heady effect on him. He wondered if Matty knew just how little he had to ask of him or how eager George was to indulge. He chuckled as he recalled occasions where it seemed Matty was just fucking with him, outlandish request to test limits only to find there were none. There never would be for George. Like so many other times in their history, George would do as Matty had instructed and would wash it away in a few moments, though perhaps somewhat mournfully.

“Did you hear me,” Matty asked from the doorway, staring at him while brushing his teeth. George, in his reverie, hadn’t heard the door open let alone what Matty had said. He shook his head as he sat up on the bed’s edge. Perfumed bathwater filling the room as Matty repeated, “I tried to not run it too hot for you.” “I’m sure it’s perfect, come here.” Matty stared a moment longer before rinsing out his mouth then stood between George’s legs. George wrapped his arms around Matty's waist and tenderly kissed his stomach before suddenly leaning back and pulling Matty on top of him to straddle his lap. “George, we are covered in it,” Matty protested with a laugh in his throat but didn’t attempt to move away. George eased back onto the bed with a satisfied sigh, “That’s better,” tracing his hands over Matty’s thighs, soft black hairs tickling his fingers. “Is it, now?” Matty asked settling into George’s warmth.

Matty gazed at George’s contented face, seeing him new again, things he remembered, like the long lashes grazing his cheeks, and some he didn’t recognize, like the small light pink scar above his eyebrow. He could tell it was recent but it more importantly or worse, its origin was unknown to Matty.  _How did that happen and where was I?_ he asked himself before answering: _gone_. Another consequence. Minute in the grand scheme but he didn’t like this feeling of not knowing something about George. Yet, missing this miniscule moment, whatever its source, it wounded him in a way he couldn’t articulate. He swallowed the urge to ask about it, instead focused on other parts of him, his hands roaming over George’s body lovingly.  

“Would you let me dress you,” Matty whispered softly. One of George’s eyes quirked open, “You just did the opposite of that, love.” Matty smiled, “No, that tune by Prince. I always admired it but I can’t say I ever understood it really. It sounded cool, you know,  _if I was your girlfriend,”_ he sung, “but now do I think I understand what he meant. That anxious desire to be let in, to covet what’s hidden, witness your lover’s ordinary and consider it sublime. I want that...” he drifted off swirling his fingers on George’s torso. George cupped his chin, “I would if,” pausing to make eye contact when he replied, “...you do the same.”

They started with the bath where George sat back against Matty’s chest, who lathered his hair and washed from his neck down, connecting the moles with a soap-slicked finger. Switching positions, George took considerable care to not tangle Matty’s ringlets, steam rising from his shoulders, and George counted the bones in his spine. They washed in front of each other and rinsed with the showerhead. Back in the bedroom, George toweled and massaged oil onto Matty, paying special attention to his colorful tattoos then sat between Matty's bare legs to let him brush out his hair. George appreciated his effort though both knew it wouldn’t take long to frizz up and go its own way.

They didn’t dress to go out as Prince sung but George modeled for him anyway. Matty found a kimono in the depths of the dresser drawer, chuckling at the open front framing George’s cock and skimming his upper thighs, calling it a “look.” George cast it off then buttoned on a silk blouse and black sweats, both decided it was too formal for their day of lying about. George retreated to the bathroom to brush his teeth leaving Matty to examine the closet. Matty couldn’t say why that song came to him, and sure, it was cheesy to use a song to help him express himself but...it was the only way he knew to ask George for permission, for intimacy and to offer it. He was struggling between wanting to leap right back into their deep end and needing to break their separation and emotional state down to atoms.

He just needed time and the chaotic array of George’s closet was not helping Matty organize his thoughts. He eventually settled on a garishly striped but comfortable co-ord set that George adored just as he opened the door wiping his face with a towel. “This?” Matty held up the hanger. George’s eyes softened as he took the shirt off the hanger and pulled it over his head, “I don’t have to wear this, I know you don’t like--” Matty shushed him while straightening the collar, “you look good in it.” George blushed and rummaged in his bureau, finding a white tee shirt and pink shorts for Matty, who again was swallowed up but made no attempt to put on his own clothes from his bursting bag. They caught themselves in the mirror, giggling at their garb, looking simultaneously over and under dressed but complementary.

* * *

George sat against the arm of the couch with Matty’s feet in his lap. “It should be ready now, yes?” Matty uttered flipping between channels. “Hm? Is what ready?” George absently stroking Matty’s ankle with one hand, scrolling through his phone with the other. “Your pudding? It’s been a few hours.” “Right! It slipped my mind. Do you want some if it is?” Matty nodded and George headed towards the fridge. The bottom center of the pan was cool, having set and was ready to eat. George filled a small bowl and returned the pan to the fridge, his hand shaking when he reached for a spoon, his nerves were winding up again.  _It’s not a big deal George,_  he reassured himself walking back to the couch. “Where’s yours?” Matty asked when he saw the single dish. George handed him the bowl, “I’ll have some later,” returning Matty’s feet back to his lap, hoping their presence would prevent him from nervously bouncing his legs. His gnawed thumb would bear the brunt of his anticipation.

Matty scooped a small spoonful, looked sideways, “You sure?” and placed the dessert in his mouth at George’s urging, chewing with his eyes closed. “Oh, my god,” resting the spoon on his lips, “that’s good.” Matty took another bite, “it’s not too sweet, very smooth, and ehm, aromatic? What did you put in it again?” George grinned bashfully, “cardamom and what else in the cupboard so it wouldn’t be just plain, wasn’t really thinking. You really like it?” Matty nodded enthusiastically, humming as he savored another mouthful, “I do...here.” Matty spooned a little and reached towards George, “it’s yours, you should try it too.” George opened his mouth and took the spoon, chewing then swallowed and said “damn” quietly. Matty split the last bit, giving half to George then walked to the kitchen and set it in the sink.

Matty eschewed the generous space on the couch, opting to cuddle up against George to share the last of the sweetness in his mouth with a kiss before resting on George’s shoulder. “Did that help,” he asked, “with your craving?” George takes a moment, “No. Well, I suppose I don’t need it now. Something else took care of that…” nudging his shoulder at Matty, his cheeks breaking into a smile. George let the air hang for a moment, “I’m going to roll one or two if you want? Just to relax.” While George retreated to his office, Matty’s attention turned to George’s phone. “George? Can I see the pictures?” he called out.

George sat next to him, watching Matty unlock his phone and busied himself; he wasn’t ready to look at them. His fingers moved nimbly at the old habit, overly involving himself in breaking it up to give Matty a moment, who was silent, head down and still except for his finger swiping. “Are they ok? Do you like them?” Matty didn’t answer him which gave George pause,  _maybe they were too much._ Being in the moment was one thing but reliving it made his chest tighten, he couldn’t imagine how it was for Matty. He couldn’t bear the uncharacteristic silence any longer, after sealing the joint, he offered, “I can delete them, if you--” but Matty cut him off with a sniffle, “I love them.”

George exhaled with relief but when Matty raised his head, he saw his eyes were wet. “Shit, I’m sorry,” He sat up with a start, dropping the joint and wanting to save Matty from his own tears, he supposed. Matty waved off his apology. “Don't be, you didn’t do anything. It’s me. I’m…,” he exhaled sharply and fidgeted with his fingers, “It’s a lot to see myself how you see me, even after how I abandoned you. That you still find something worth loving about me, when I feel wretched...” George rubbed Matty’s back to soothe him. “I missed you and how I felt with you and I’m sorry I wasted time and I love you and... I’m not making sense--” stopping himself to look at George straight on, “but I could say it that a thousand times a day. I always want to be working toward showing you that and making it true.” Matty closed his red rimmed eyes and took a stabilizing breath.

George believed him and replied with sincerity, “I would never tire of hearing that from you. Though, I’m not a sadist so I won’t make you say it a thousand times a day,” earning a ragged laugh from Matty, who sniffled again and said “Really. I want this, whatever is it now or will become, I want it desperately.” Matty’s face set in a determined look and George knew he decided to stop fighting himself. George decided long ago and had been waiting for this but he couldn’t say what Matty had, not like that. He had Matty stand then rearranged himself to sitting along the couch gesturing for Matty to sit back against his chest. Matty situated himself comfortably though he was trembling, his hands unsteady when he tried to light the joint. George took them in his and whispered “relax” into his ear.

Matty would in time, having felt lighter already by getting that off his chest but he hoped George would have said more. Not that he discounted what he did. George’s brevity was always a sore spot for Matty, he loved it when it worked but loathed it when it left him hanging, like now. He turned his head up to watch George light the joint, taking a deep drag and holding it watching his mouth work. “George,” Matty said softly. “Don’t pout,” his words letting out smoke, “you’ll get it,” passing to Matty. “It’s not that,” taking the joint out of his hand and inhaled, “how did you get that scar?” George’s voice was muddled, “what scar did I get?” thoroughly confused by this suspicious turn in their conversation. “Above your right eye? I’ve never seen it before.” Matty reached up behind him and felt near the spot.  

“That? That was after we got back. I tripped, if you can believe it. That’s never happened before,” he laughed sarcastically and Matty joined him. “Yeah, I was unpacking, shit everywhere, and I caught a corner of my nightstand. Looked around, I tumbled over one of your shoes that ended up in my suitcase. I still have it, if you were wondering where it went. I’m surprised you didn’t see it earlier when we got dressed. You’re...” He trailed off and the air between them changed. He bit his lip, “The past day has been beyond what I have allowed myself to hope for. All I wanted was to get through yesterday without losing it, to not think about you while you were here. Truthfully, I had no plans to say anything to you outside of work or whatever, I didn’t think I could handle it; just hold my pain and breath until it you were gone. But you’re never gone, you’re everywhere.”

“If I had stuck to that and let you leave, I’d be sat here alone or I don’t know, bugging Ross to go out.” Matty laughed at that and passed back to him, “Ross would have phoned you first. I’m surprised he hasn’t called you already. He really can’t get enough lately. I hope he’s getting some rest and vitamins in between all that.” Matty shifted, “Did you go out often?” The smoke was starting to work on George, “Hmm, sporadically. Distractions mostly. I mean, not to shame them, they were perfectly fine people. I just wasn’t invested, like I was passing through which they didn’t deserve.” George rubbed his hand down Matty’s chest, “It never felt like I did with you.”

“And how does it feel with me?” Matty’s tone was dreamlike but George knew he was serious. “I know you’ve never liked to say, you’ve always shown me, but…There must be—before action, there are words and before that, thoughts, then urges or an instinct. You’ve shown me and I believe you, always. I guess I just want to hear it. What’s inside you that makes you see me, that makes us work.” Matty giggled at the last, whispering us work us work us work. “I,” George began then faltered, he had the words, always had, but he usually expressed them in the studio or something he would make or give to Matty, or they manifested when his hands were on Matty, always the catalyst.

George knew Matty did not want nor would accept some treacly declaration. He searched himself before stating in an assuring tone, “ok,” extending the joint to Matty who declined then extinguishing it in the ashtray, laying his free hands back on Matty’s torso. “Everything about us is like grounded madness. Like I’m on the shore next to a tumultuous ocean. The sky is angry, the wind and air electric, the water black and shimmering, stretching out so far, it doesn’t seem possible that there’s an end. Waves are breaking at my feet, pulling imperceptible layers of sand out from under me. I’m being pulled slowly in deeper. I’m transfixed, rooted to the spot at the mercy of these elements. I could try to run for cover, if I don’t move, I might be buried or swept away but…I stay. I was chosen to experience and witness this. No one else but me is chosen or spared from this storm. And no one will believe I embraced it and survived.”

“Well, fuck.” Matty uttered, touching George’s temple “you keep all that in there?” George nodded, “Was that even English?” “Yes, babe,” Matty said, his voice silkier that it was a moment before, “George, your hands…” Matty’s abdomen flinched from his touch. He hadn’t realized he had been caressing Matty while he spoke and started to pull his hand away. Matty stopped him and guided his hand down further, past his shivering belly button, resting it on the warm inviting thatch of hair. George peeked over Matty’s shoulder and saw his narrow hips lift and lean into his hand. Matty took George’s fingers and wrapped them around himself, using George’s to stroke himself. “You are aware, you truly can’t get rid of me now,” Matty whispered up to him, “Not after that?” The swirling of Matty’s waist gave George tempting glimpses of the black coils surrounding his cock. George exhaled and buried his face into the similar curls on Matty’s neck, his voice low as he concurred, “I know. I wouldn’t want to.”

Matty’s soft whimpers from every stroke built a dizzying tautness below George’s belly. The lilting sighs emboldened George to grip him tighter to yield more. He shifted his position to take the pressure off his growing erection nestled in the small of Matty’s back when Matty stood suddenly. He was a bit wobbly as he stepped out of the shorts George chose for him, kicking them out of his way. He ran his hands up and down his belly, presenting himself naked and exposed. Despite Matty’s cock mere inches from his mouth and demanding his attention, George could not look away from Matty’s face, flushed but serene. His eyes followed Matty as he knelt and reached for the waistband of George’s shorts, freeing his bulge from the fabric and casting them aside. Matty stared at George’s cock for a moment before sinking his face between his legs, resting his cheek on his thighs, he breathed in deeply. With a slight turn of his head, his lips were at George’s base and he swept his fingers delicately along the length before inhaling again.

When Matty finally looked away to run his tongue lightly over George’s balls, he heard George’s hand clasp over his mouth. He could feel the pulse beating though that large vein in his thigh. George could restrain himself physically but his body burned to let Matty know he was affecting him. Matty couldn’t explain what had come over him, it wasn’t that George had said anything explicitly sexual. It was George’s hands and both of their senses and emotions were heightened and he wanted every part of him. He felt ravenous, wanting to not just fuck George and give himself over, he wanted to commit George’s taste and smell to his memory. He took another deep breath and stuck two fingers in mouth, and reached below to ready himself for George. As he opened himself up with his fingers, he put George’s head in his mouth, smooth and salty against his tongue. When he was sufficiently supple, and George equally delirious, he climbed onto George’s lap, wrapping his legs around him and reached behind to hold George, stopping just short of letting him enter. George met Matty’s hand on his cock and guided himself inside, slowly. Matty paused occasionally to adjust to the girth inside him, exhaling once he had George where he wanted him.

It was an intricate dance, Matty concentrated on the steps, down to take more of George deeper into his ass then and up into George’s deliciously tight grasp on his cock. Between the two opposing but intertwined sensations, Matty wouldn’t last much longer. George wanted to stay in this moment, enveloped by Matty, wanted by him, reaching inside him and making him make those delighted noises but his cock was growing eager with every thrust. Matty leaned back, balancing himself on George’s knees, his whole body tightened when he screamed George’s name as his cum shot out of him in a glorious stream that landed on George’s cheek. He shuddered again when a powerful spurt escaped him to fall on George’s torso and his ass contracted around George’s cock when the last drops trickled out, collecting in shiny pools in George’s palm.

George let go of Matty’s spent cock and licked his fingers, still thrusting inside him. Matty reared forward to lick his cheek, he was closer. Matty mixed it with his and George’s tongue and fingers, their mouths sloppily colliding. Hurried panting breaths between their smacking, cum slicked lips, George couldn’t fight back any longer, his hand around the back of Matty’s neck, he roughly grabbed his waist and thrust up hungrily until his balls tightened to release their load inside Matty, he lunged erratically, coaxing every drop into him. He loosened his hold on Matty and leaned back against the couch, Matty draped himself around George, his chest heaving.

George was dazed, seeing stars when he blinked himself back to clarity as he recovered. He didn’t know where those words came from or why they affected Matty this way but he was glad he said it. Better that than the bad, the dark. He didn’t want to talk about the worst of it all, though he would tell Matty, one day, how he was affected by their breakup. Not to spite him or relive it endlessly but to be as honest and open as Matty had been with him with his words and his body. But he couldn’t think of the bad right now, not with Matty collapsed against his chest, hair slicked with sweat against his brow and still smelling of his soap from their bath, glowing while trying to catch his breath. Right now, he was besotted and _that_ he would tell to Matty any time, endlessly.


End file.
